


Only Hunting For Mice

by FyrMaiden



Category: Glee
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 02:51:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4374350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FyrMaiden/pseuds/FyrMaiden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt and Blaine adopt a cat from a shelter. It looks sweet, but it turns out to be a demon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Hunting For Mice

When they’d got the cat, they’d agreed to a list of criteria. Cute, Blaine had insisted, although he’d allowed that cute was negotiable and ill defined. Placid had been on the list. Relaxed. Maybe older. Not a kitten, at the very least – neither of them had the time to train a kitten. Just – something calm to fill the void left by the kids leaving for college, or to celebrate finally having their evenings and their breakfast counter to themselves again. A cat, Kurt decided, because a dog would require walking three times a day, and maybe finding a dog walker for when they weren’t home, and dogs were big (“Ish,” Blaine said, and showed Kurt pictures of Chihuahuas and miniature poodles and one very small Maltese which had made Kurt amend ‘big’ to ‘small’ and then to ‘tiny’ and also point out that a Maltese needed actual _grooming_ ) and smelly and – And Blaine had held his arms and rubbed his shoulders and kissed his forehead and said a cat was fine. They’d go to the shelter with their list of requirements, and see which cat made them fall in love.

They’d found Oswald quickly. He was six, with a fuzzy history and just one eye, and he’d been lying in his box, half asleep and so relaxed. Blaine had gripped Kurt’s hand so tight his fingers cracked, and Kurt had winced and retrieved his crushed fingers, and they’d asked about him. “What you see,” they’re told, and a lot of superlatives that amount to his being ‘pretty chill’. He purrs when Blaine holds him, and butts his head up under his chin, and Blaine looks at Kurt, eyes wide and open in ways that have brought Kurt to his knees for actual decades.

They go home the parents of one neutered long-haired ginger tom cat.

And that’s when they learn that an animal’s shelter behaviour does not necessarily reflect its personality. Oswald doesn’t have one foot in hell. He hasn’t even stopped at 3. Kurt is, as he lint rollers ginger fur from another of Blaine’s jackets that he left on the bed and the damn cat slept on, absolutely convinced that the damn cat has all four feet firmly on the path to hell, and he’s dragging all of them there with him. There’s a tear in the curtains, and the upholstery on the arms of the chairs is shredded, and the feathery parts of assorted toys are strewn across the floor in an array of primary coloured carnage. Sweater firmly stored in Blaine’s closet, Kurt now stands in the middle of their family room, the silk cover of a scatter cushion in his hands, the threads pulled and ruined, and on his face is a look of resigned and devastated horror.

“Get a cat, you said,” he calls, staring at the once beautiful taupe cover. “It’ll be easier to raise a cat than it was raising a child, you said. I don’t remember the kids destroying my cushions.”

Blaine appears in the doorway, one small ginger cat tucked in his arms, purring like an engine and looking like the picture of innocence. “I clearly remember more than one cushion being thrown away because it got drowned in juice and worse,” he replies. Kurt smooths the fabric in his hands, sighs, and then looks at Blaine and the bundle of fluff embedding ginger fur in another obnoxiously expensive sweater. His inclines his head, and Blaine returns the cat to the floor before taking the cushion away and drawing Kurt into a hug. The cat twirls itself between their legs and then disappears through the door to their bedroom to sleep in the sun.

Kurt presses a finger to the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes, exhales long and slow. “Can you just-” he starts, and Blaine kisses his cheek.

“I’ll make sure he’s not on your side,” he says.

Kurt picks up feathers, and wonders how this became his life, and whether maybe another cat might calm Oswald down…


End file.
